Of Magic and Majesty
by Lady Loonatic
Summary: Broken from the losses faced during the Battle of Hogwarts, Beth Delanie has unknowingly thrown herself head long into a far more perilous venture, and into the un-expecting arms of an Exiled King. Slow Thorin/OC, not your typical girl-falls-into-middle-earth story - starts pre-quest. Rated T for Beth's potty mouth and violent themes.


Beth Delanie had been asleep for a long time.

At least, it _felt_ like a long time – floating in the bottomless dark, uncertain of whether her eyes were open or shut. If she still had a body, she was unaware of it. The bizarre sensation of being formless, as if one false move would cause her to dissipate like smoke in the wind – was this death?

If so, Beth decided somewhere in the part of her mind that was still active enough to think such thoughts, that it was going to be awfully tedious; though not completely undeserved on her part.

But as time passed – its measure completely obscure to her smoky existence – she began to feel again. At first, it was just her fingertips, with no sensation as to what connected her to said digits – but they were there all the same. Slowly but surely Beth rebuilt herself in that endless abyss, until she felt earth press against her back, wind lash over her face and the chill of night clench around her bones.

For the first time in a very long time indeed, Beth Delanie was _alive_.

And the second she opened her eyes, she wholeheartedly wished she wasn't.

Everything exploded into wakefulness inside her. The adrenalin frazzled her nerves and steadied her trembling hand as she instinctively snatched at her wand, more aware of its presence than actually having seen it. Beth remembered it all in a flash of green light – the twisted snarl of a nameless Death Eater, his face sallow and gaunt with the weight of his sin as he stood surrounded by Beth's allies. That all-encompassing black rage had boiled inside her, and her mouth uttered the curse the same time he did.

Hers hit first. And it hit true.

She had cherished that moment of grim satisfaction as he fell, eyes vacant and face contorted in its final moment of shock – as if he hadn't actually expected her to do it. And if he had, then he certainly hadn't foreseen that he would actually die. Then again, Beth had been so certain of her own death, though admittedly she was vaguely aware that she was bleeding – courtesy of her now-dead Death Eater (in any other situation, Beth would have laughed at the irony.)

Heaving herself up and back, she staggered and leaned against a small portion of staircase that had remained unharmed in the fray. Her surroundings were gulped in at overwhelming speed, and the only thing that drew her alarm was the utter stillness. Amongst the scattered dead, even the few bodies she saw stood vertigo were completely frozen, their gaze as frenzied as no doubt hers was.

Beth stood a moment in tense silence, her battered mind stilling – and as it did, she heard what had caused such stillness.

'_You have fought valiantly – but in vain. I do not wish this; every drop of magical blood spilled is a…terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. Dispose of your dead with dignity._

'_Harry Potter – I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself…there is no greater dishonour. Join me, in the forbidden forest, and confront your fate. If you do not do this – I shall kill every last man…woman…and child, who tries to conceal you from me.'_

Beth didn't realise how badly she was trembling until that dreadful hiss released her, and her thoughts flew to the faces she knew and loved – Neville, who she had not seen since they were separated at the bridge. Neville who she'd promised to protect, on their friendship of almost 10 years. Ginny, her sister in all but blood – too young to be here, too young to kill or be killed; much like many of the other young faces she recognised amongst the bodies that littered the stairwell, as if a great sleeping enchantment had settled upon the school during the brief transition period between lessons.

Fred. Where was her Fred? With George, unquestionably – but _where?_ Panic welled in her throat, constricting her gasping breaths as she staggered in the direction of the Great Hall, fingers desperately trying to hold her side together. The doors were open in their usual welcome, though the scene beyond was nothing of the familiar long tables filled to the brims with enough dishes to make you swear you'd never eat again. There were faces Beth recognised, and some she didn't, all wearing that expression – the one sapped of all hope and fight. Beth's eyes swept over the quiet, not daring to linger too long on any of the peaceful faces.

And that's when she spotted a huddle of flaming red hair, Arthur and Molly – the only thing holding the other up, and Ginny stood curled into Bill's side, hair fell across her face in a curtain of grief. She saw George, though she barely recognised him. Beth didn't even know that his face could hold such a picture of grief – there was no trace of the usual teasing in the crease of brow.

_No._

She saw him then. Laid out amongst the others – the dead.

_No._

It couldn't happen. Fred couldn't be dead. This was all some sick illusion, created by that fucking Death Eater. Molly spotted her and Beth watched almost curiously as she let out a dry sob, beckoning Beth to come to her, and take comfort there. Why did she need comfort? Fred wasn't dead.

_No._

But Beth was surrounded by death. It suddenly came up to press against her lungs and stole her breath. She needed to get out of here – to go to find her Fred. Her eyes near clawed out of her skull in their frantic search for the door she'd just come through, that all but seemed to have vanished. Instead, she was met with endless faces – Lupin, Tonks, Lavender Brown, one of the Pavarti twins, little Colin Creevey.

Thoughtless, Beth spun on her heel, the last whispers of her rational mind providing a destination –

'_Not here.'_

Her gut twisted in that familiar distortion, before she was once again weightless and the black encased her with a motherly embrace.

Then Beth Delanie was falling.

* * *

**Say hello to Beth Duh-lay-knee.**

**So this is to be my very hastily written introduction and back story for one of my many Hobbit fics in the making. I appreciate it's kind of suckish - but my openings always are, I'm as awkward with starting stories as I am conversations. Anywho, if it perks your interest then please feel free to review/follow/fave (I'm really new to the whole layout of this site, having only used Failzilla and my Deviantart [where I have a Loki story on the go, so if you're interested in reading it let me know and I'll post it on here] account until recently, when I remembered I have an account on here. Heh, derp.**

**Thanks for taking the time to read my rambling, I apologize for forcing my imagination upon you but I've run out of notepads to jot in so the internet is my only lease for such things. Ellie x**


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